In at 9:06 Out by 9:48

It irritates me to no end that, when I check into the Lab for blood work, the receptionists always ask, “Did your doctor order this?”

I always politely respond “yes”, but inside I’m thinking … How stupid are you? Do you think I’d be here otherwise? My doctor not only ordered it, but this time threatened to withhold my blood pressure medication if I didn’t report for duty.

The good news is, I was in and out in 42 minutes — record time, but only because I got up early, arrived close to an hour after they’d opened. Additional bonus — the Lab Technician was so good that I didn’t even feel the needle going in.

Last time I had blood drawn, arriving about 11 a.m., I found the Lab so busy that my number was hours away from being called.

I timed how long it took for the numbers to be called, figured that, at the pace the Lab Techs were going, I'd be waiting over 2 ½ hours, decided to leave, come back.

I spent the time shopping at a nearby mall.

By the time I figured my number would be coming up, I drove back, arrived with a wait of 10 more minutes.

Thinking ahead, just in case I didn’t get back before they called my number, I’d grabbed another number on the way out.

After I was done with the Lab, overhearing someone complain about what a long wait they had ahead of them, I gave them the second number I’d pulled, which cut their wait time to a few minutes.

So, anyway, Lab Work is off my bucket list, and I now know to always arrive early.

On the way out of the medical center, I heard a woman say, “I think we still have time to make it to Denny’s”.

I don’t know why I found that so funny, but she needn’t have worried because, to my understanding, Denny's serves breakfast all day, every day, 365 days a year.

Walking to the car, I spotted a fun decal.

Since I was out and about, I thought to get the car gassed up at Costco, take a stroll through Spirit Halloween, stop by the bank, pick up groceries. However, the freeway turnoff that would take me to the location, where I could accomplish all four tasks in one spot, that I’d programmed into the GPS was blocked off. Not knowing my way around otherwise, in that area, I pivoted — headed home with one stop, by a bank, where I managed to snag a few $2 bills.

Asking the teller if he had any $2 bills, he asked his manager who said, “I have 134” and she just happened to have them in her hand.

How serendipitous is that?

She’d just received a new bundle of 2’s and was counting them out.

And when I say new, I mean brand spanking new, hot off the press, which caused me to inquire as to why they were new and not old and gnarly.

"Oh, we frequently get new packs in. They’re still being printed".

"Then why do I not see them in circulation? Why are there people who’ve never seen a $2 bill?"

"That’s because people are collecting them".

Oh, the teller means people like me. LOL.

At any rate, I only bought ten because, seeing the bills in brand new shape kinda took the glamour of owning off for me.

What would be fun, if we had trick-or-treaters around here, which we don’t, it would be fun to give them a candy bar wrapped in a $2 bill.

Inasmuch as I was not able to get groceries while I was out and about, and couldn’t stop at the corner market (which would have been convenient) because … security guard, looks like I’m going to have to head out again, go to the other market in the area.

Spirit Halloween will have to wait for another day, and I’ll gas up at the corner station tomorrow.

I prefer one and done, as in one trip out, multiple errands run, but we can't always get what we want. At least not today.

Stiff and Sore

Saturday’s walk, on the campus of the university, was energizing and motivated me to get off the couch yesterday, put in some time on the smart hula hoop, followed by a 6 mile ride on the indoor bike.

Woke up this morning feeling it — stiff and sore.

Much as I would have preferred to stay in, nurse my aching body, I pushed through, kept my appointment at the Pain Cave.

Got through today’s upper body workouts, arrived back at the complex feeling even sorer and stiffer.

As I pulled into my parking spot, the Talker, who parks next to me, was preparing to enter her car to drive away.

Asking if her brother, who was banned by the Tyrant, from bringing his mobile food bank onto the property, had found another location, she responded, no, that he was currently looking for another location because he had lost his lease.

I’m not exactly sure what that meant, but gather either the church lot he was working from, or a location he had leased, was no longer available to collect, store, distribute from.

The Talker went on to say she too was looking for another place.

"What!! … Why are you looking? Are you moving?" asked I.

That was a "yes", but only because the office has notified her that she is now over-income and has to be out by October 31.

Damn! That’s harsh. She’s only been here a year and a half.

The Talker got pushed over-income as a result of monies inherited when her mom recently died, followed by her now getting a salary from a health care organization for taking care of the disabled brother who lives with her, which salary had been withheld and is now coming in lump sum, with additional checks to follow, further pushing her over income. Not to mention the disabled brother also became privy to a similar lump sum windfall.

"Money just keeps coming in", said she.

"It’s a blessing and a curse", said I.

She agreed with that and went on to say she felt bad about being blessed, because there are residents here who are struggling and, being as how she is a talker, she went into detail about the residents of whom she spoke.

She pointed out that one such resident, who lives in my building, around the corner, has so little money that the office settled her rent at $295 a month.

I’m no fool though. I’m sure the county is kicking in $900 or so for the shortfall, but I didn’t say that to the Talker.

She also said the nice old guy who saved the kitten is also struggling because, after his wife died a year ago, he lost income. His rent had been settled at $750 and, with the loss of income, he now only has $925 coming in.

"He needs to get himself re-evaluated", said I, which she said is what she told him but, in the interim, she — the Talker, has been helping him out, paid off a few bills for him.

She and her brother with the van are generous souls. Her generous nature is probably what’s attracting money into her life — The Law of Attraction.

At any rate, it was interesting to learn of the disparity in how management determines the price of leasing a unit here. I assume there is a formula they follow and, because she and I are in a gray area — not rich, but not as poor as others, the formula is slowly working against me, but worked rapidly against her because everything came in all at once.

She’s living on faith that she’ll be led to the right place, which is what I too will do when the time comes. Living on faith is what brought me here after that disastrous year I had my life turned upside down, when I relocated to Long Beach so granddaughter could continue with her schooling, keep her from being homeless when her mom spiraled out, left her alone to fend for herself.

Talker said she wants to buy, but plans to wait until the housing market calms down.

So that was my today, which happened to be the 2-year Anniversary of my working out with Trainer in the Pain Cave.

Thanks to my gut issues, which got progressively worse last two years, I’m not leaner, but hope springs eternal. I keep trying for weight loss.

I am, however, very much stronger — I even now can feel muscle in my upper arms.

Can you make out the words on my leggings? I’m what those words say.

I’ve Still Got It

Yesterday was the day I was to have checked into a hotel in Redondo Beach, so I could participate in this morning’s 5K.

After testing my walking legs out at the mall a few weeks back, realizing they were in poor shape from having not trained in over a year, not to mention not wanting to deal with the hassle of traveling, I cancelled the hotel.

I was prepared to eat the 5K registration fee, but then thought to email the organizer to see if the registration could be converted to virtual.

"No problem at all", was the reply but that "It may take a few days after the race to ship your items".

"Items" would be my Bib Number, so I can log in my results, and whatever else is included in the swag bag.

Waking up this morning to feeling a long walk was just what I needed to clear my head of stuff that’s been bugging me, I suited up and headed out to start training.

Thinking the University might now be open to walkers, I headed there first, with a plan to head for the mall if the University's parking lot area was still blocked off.

The area was open.

Two security cars were parked where they’d be highly visible, but none of the occupants bothered me, and there were others walking about.

The first 0.45 miles was a struggle, but then, as being out in the sunshine began to feel good, my legs warmed up, what fresh air I could get through my mask kicked in, and I got lost in the music playing on the iPod. The struggle passed, I was in the flow and, before I knew it, I completed the entire 3.13 miles.

I’ve still got it.

Had not my Runkeeper App failed to accurately record my time and miles, beyond 3.0, I could have counted the 5K done and, when my Bib arrived, submitted my results.

However, since it did fail, I’ll have to redo the walk when the items arrive. But that’s not a problem, because the weather is back to walking weather AND, when I saw how many steps my fitness tracker had logged in, how many calories it indicated I’d burned, I’m ready to make this an every Saturday morning thing again.

Runkeeper failing is not new, so I'd better play it safe next time and see if the phone can run Map My Walk and Runkeeper simultaneously, so I can end up with the correct miles and minutes.

Other than that, nothing much going on, except my to-do list, which had been cleared, now has another visit to the medical center added to it.

When I returned from the flu clinic, there was an email from the doctor’s office that the next refill on my blood pressure medication would be withheld if I did not come in for my annual blood draw.

Seriously?

You’d subject me to a stroke?

Had I been advised blood work had been scheduled — which notification I did not receive, I could have taken care of it the day I was getting the flu shot, no need to threaten.

But whatever.

So, other than another trip to the medical center — soon, I’ve got nothing else on my to-do list. I can just coast into the 1st of Halloween (October 1), when I can put out my candy corn door mat, candy corn door wreath AND, because Activity Director is hosting a Halloween Decoration Contest, I’m going all out this year by adding candy corn lights to the balcony and a candy corn window poster.

I’m going for the look of the wicked witch’s home in Hansel and Gretel, except I’m substituting candy corn for the gingerbread, cake and pastry that covered the witch’s home— but it would be cool to recreate the gingerbread house in its entirety (if only I had the storage space).

Can’t wait to walk around, see what other residents come up with.

All are being encouraged to decorate their patios/balconies and front doors, but to keep it “family friendly”.

I guess that means no skeletons, blood, gore.

If Activity Director doesn’t get the participation she expects, and that I’m hoping for, that will just mean I win whatever the prize is hands down.

Fun at the Flu Clinic and Cat Tales

There was a lot of giggles at the medical center yesterday when the name “Shirley” was called up to get a flu shot.

I didn’t immediately jump up, because I wasn’t certain I’d heard the name correctly.

It was a good thing I didn’t because, when no one appeared to respond, the nurse called out the first and last name “Shirley W____”, which turned out to be the 80 year old woman who’d checked in ahead of me.

I know she was 80 because I’d heard her respond “80” when the check-in nurse asked her age.

The 80 year old was a hard 80 — weak, slow moving, on a walker so it took some time for her to get up as the nurse repeated the name, stood there looking for someone to respond.

Just as the 80 year old stood, began her slow assent to the nurse, the other nurse stood up and called my name “Shirley, Shirley R_____”.

The 80 year old by now was standing in front of two nurses calling “Shirley” looking confused, while the two nurses were looking confused at the 80 year old and each other.

The second nurse asked if she was “Shirley R_____” but then saw I was approaching and had waived, indicating it was I.

The 80 year old had stopped in her tracks, unsure of which nurse to go to and, by now, everyone in the waiting room was watching the drama unfold and began to laugh when the nurse said, “We have two Shirleys back-to-back. That’s never happened before”.

As I got to the nurse who’d called my name, the 80 year old was just beginning to realize the confusion had been because two Shirleys were called and said with a smile, “Your name is Shirley too?”

"Yes" replied I. "It’s nice to meet you. I love your name".

It was a fun time at the flu shot clinic.

Upon returning to the complex, I swung by the mail center. Then later that afternoon, when I saw from my perch on the couch that the Tall Redhead was walking down the walkway, heading towards the mail center, I masked up, grabbed my keys, and headed down to pretend I was picking up mail so I could ask about the cat.

"What happened to the kitten?", asked I.

"Oh, he went Diane", said she as she pointed in the direction of Diane’s unit.

I don't recall if I said anything else in response to the Tall Redhead, because time sort of stood still as I processed to whom the kitten had been given.

On the surface, Diane is a nice enough person, friendly, sweet but, as previously posted, I suspect she did something to the puppy she adopted during the quarantine that caused the puppy to have to be put to sleep.

In that previous post, I'd detailed Diane's back story — that she'd been a brilliant woman, employed in a high-functioning job, something to do with working in a lab, until an automobile accident left her brain damaged, prone to seizures and unable to hold down a job.

During the shutdown, Diane adopted a puppy.

I’d once or twice seen her walking the puppy and, when the quarantine was over, I ran into her out walking — sans the puppy.

Asking how the puppy was doing, Diane said she’d had to put it to sleep. That it was acting funny, she’d taken it to the vet, who’d diagnosed the puppy with an ailment that required an expensive operation. Saying she could not afford the operation, she’d had the puppy put to sleep.

Reading between the lines, and observing Diane’s body language, I’d gotten the distinct impression she was glad to be rid of the puppy because, during the conversation, she blurted out “I tried sooooo hard, I really tried, but he was peeing on everything”. 

Also reading between the lines, observing the guilt in Diane’s eyes, I got the impression she caused the injury that required the puppy to be put to sleep because her eyes had that inward remembering look when she said, “I didn’t even hit him that hard”.

Sure, not THAT hard but hard enough that the puppy was acting funny thereafter and needed an operation.

At any rate, I don’t know how safe the kitten is with Diane. Hopefully, it won’t irritate her to where it ends up being thrown against the wall, which is what I suspect she did with the puppy.

There’s not much I can say or do. No one would believe sweet Diane may not be a good choice, a safe choice, could be a danger to a pet, so I’ll just have to check in with Diane, when I see her out and about, ask how the kitten is doing, hope for the best.

Before I could walk back to my unit, I saw another cat — not the Black cat, but a spotted one.

So we now have two stray cats on the property — the Tyrant is not going to be happy.

This new cat, is a spotted one that looks very much like she could be the kitten's mom.

Is it just me feeling she seem destitute, looking for, but not finding her kitten?

Sorry, Not Sorry

Recall Election doesn’t end until tomorrow and already it’s being called as Gavin having kicked butt.

Sorry Caitlyn; sorry Larry.

Things got a little gnarly late today when Larry tried to change the tide by dragging out a Weinstein victim, who accused the governor’s wife of trying to silence her.

Not smart if true, but too little too late.

I’m not a political person — I don’t follow the ins, the outs but, if I'm not mistaken, Larry’s last minute disclosure — that didn’t work, seems eerily similar to the last minute disclosure of Hillary’s emails sent on her private account, that did work to change the tide.

At any rate, it’s a wrap on the recall.

No news on what’s become of the rescued kitten.

I usually run into the nice old guy and the tall redhead whenever I head out, but have seen neither hide nor hair of either one since Thursday, when they knocked on the door.

Tomorrow is Pizza Tuesday for the seniors — and yes, Activity Director is back to having that activity. So that should get one of the two out of their unit so I can find out what’s going on with the kitten.

Tomorrow is also Bingo — the first since the pandemic. That too should get folks out of their units.

Last week, I ran into the Baker and the short redheaded OG (the woman whose niece, a health care professional, who was NOT vaccinated, took a trip to Las Vegas, came back with Covid), both asked if I'd be coming to Bingo.

"That would be no", said I, and used the excuse of no reason for me to participate in activities, now that I’m no longer taking photos or managing the residents’ website.

I did say perhaps I’d stick my head in, just to see how things were going, but I don’t think I’ll be back in time from running errands and getting my annual flu shot.

America, The Good Neighbor

Twenty years ago, I was blogging under the domain name of Black and Blue, because that’s what my life was at that time.

Due to a snafu, posts on that site disappeared. However, fortunately, I’d backed up the years 1998 - 2016 onto flash drives.

Thinking back on how I learned of the 9/11 Terror Attack, I pulled up that day, and two days after.

Here’s what I’d written:

Tuesday, September 11, 2001

While America Slept

I hardly know what to say.

I stopped at Starbucks' for coffee this morning and found the doors locked. One of the servers unlocked the door to tell me Starbucks was closed because the building had been evacuated in light of the "terrorists" attacks. When the server saw the blank look on my face, he filled me in. I then noticed the streets were kind of empty for a Tuesday, a lot of businesses were shut down, and security personnel were standing guard everywhere. As soon as I reached work, I was sent home.

I hardly know what to say.

The words that come to mind are "life changing" "consciousness raising."

For a great many of us, things will never be the same -- though all around me everything seems the same. The first thing that struck me was there were as many cars as usual parked outside the local nudie bar during the lunch hour -- which is to say the parking lots were full. Then I noticed other groups of workers sitting outside their place of employment eating lunch as usual, people shopping, sightseeing -- they won't be seeing Sea World today though .. Seaworld has been shut down, as has been the local airport. The only difference I noticed was that where people generally say to me and others, "Have a nice day" today they were saying, "Be safe." That's heavy.

Thursday, September 13, 2001

This, from a Canadian newspaper, is worth sharing.

America: The Good Neighbor.

Widespread but only partial news coverage was given recently to a remarkable editorial broadcast from Toronto by Gordon Sinclair, a Canadian television commentator. What follows is the full text of his trenchant remarks as printed in the Congressional Record:

"This Canadian thinks it is time to speak up for the Americans as the most generous and possibly the least appreciated people on all the earth. Germany, Japan and, to a lesser extent, Britain and Italy were lifted out of the debris of war by the Americans who poured in billions of dollars and forgave other billions in debts. None of these countries is today paying even the interest on its remaining debts to the United States.

When France was in danger of collapsing in 1956, it was the Americans who propped it up, and their reward was to be insulted and swindled on the streets of Paris. I was there. I saw it.

When earthquakes hit distant cities, it is the United States that hurries in to help. This spring, 59 American communities were flattened by tornadoes. Nobody helped.

The Marshall Plan and the Truman Policy pumped billions of dollars! into discouraged countries. Now newspapers in those countries are writing about the decadent, warmongering Americans. I'd like to see just one of those countries that is gloating over the erosion of the United States dollar build its own airplane. Does any other country in the world have a plane to equal the Boeing Jumbo Jet, the Lockheed Tri-Star, or the Douglas DC10? If so, why don't they fly them? Why do all the International lines except Russia fly American Planes?

Why does no other land on earth even consider putting a man or woman on the moon? You talk about Japanese technocracy, and you get radios. You talk about German technocracy, and you get automobiles. You talk about American technocracy, and you find men on the moon! not once, but several times - and safely home again.

You talk about scandals, and the Americans put theirs right in the store window for everybody to look at. Even their draft-dodgers are not pursued and hounded. They are here on our streets, and most of them, unless they are breaking Canadian laws, are getting American dollars from ma and pa at home to spend here.

When the railways of France, Germany and India were breaking down through age, it was the Americans who rebuilt them. When the Pennsylvania Railroad and the New York Central went broke, nobody loaned them an old caboose. Both are still broke.

I can name you 5000 times when the Americans raced to the help of other people in trouble. Can you name me even one time when someone else raced to the Americans in trouble? I don't think there was outside help even during the San Francisco earthquake. Our neighbors have faced it alone, and I'm one Canadian who is damned tired of hearing them get kicked around. They will come out of this thing with their flag high. And when they do, they are entitled to thumb their nose at the lands that are gloating over their present troubles. I hope Canada is not one of those."

Stand proud, America!

Tuesday, September 18, 2001

Coincidence or Not

This came in an email to the office -- original source unknown....

The date of the attack: 9/11 - 9 + 1 + 1 = 11 September 11th is the 254th day of the year: 2 + 5 + 4 = 11 

After September 11th there are 111 days left to the end of the year. 

119 is the area code to Iraq/Iran. 1 + 1 + 9 = 11 Twin Towers - standing side by side, looks like the number 11 The first plane to hit the towers was Flight 11

State of New York - The 11 State added to the Union New York City - 11 Letters 

Afghanistan - 11 Letters 

The Pentagon - 11 Letters 

Ramzi Yousef - 11 Letters (convicted of orchestrating the attack on the WTC in 1993)

Flight 11 - 92 on board - 9 + 2 = 11 

Flight 77 - 65 on board - 6 + 5 = 11